A few weeks ago we celebrated the feast of St. Francis so I thought I’d offer this famous tale about St. Francis and the wolf of Gubbio. I have enjoyed telling this story for years to children whose eyes grew big as I recounted the encounter between the poor man of Assisi and the terror of the Perugian countryside. Here is an abridged version of Julien Green’s telling of this story in his excellent book on Francis. The title of the chapter is called “The Big Bad Wolf.”
Gubbio is a very old little town whose fortifications zigzag down the slopes of Mount Igino… Houses form the border on one side; opposite them a terrace overlooks the lower town with its dark red roofs. And at each end of the great rectangular piazza two palaces face one another…
In St. Francis’s day the people of Gubbio lived in terror because of an exceptionally large wolf that haunted the countryside. The inhabitants had to lock the gates of the town and went outside—if it was absolutely necessary—only when they were armed with pitchforks and pikes. But the infernal creature feared nothing and no one and, emerging from the woods, took its toll of victims like the Minotaur.
Francis decided to straighten all this out and went to Gubbio, where the townspeople begged him to remain. But he didn’t listen and, leaving the town by the Roman gate, went with his companion down the path to the forest, the lair of the master murderer. First he had to cross a deserted stretch, a place of horror where bones strewn here and there spoke for themselves. From atop the ramparts the townsfolk cried to him to come back. Francis had no thought of fear, while his companion’s every limb was quivering. Suddenly in the nearby woods there echoed the drawn out howl that everyone knew.
Petrified with horror, his companions stood riveted to the spot, but Francis went on his way. Almost immediately, with long, loping strides, the most famous of all wolves was seen running toward him.
Francis marched straight up to the predator, made a broad sign of the cross over him, and cried out: “Brother Wolf, come here. In the name of Christ I command you not harm anyone any more. And you will not eat Brother Ass” (as he called his body). The wolf stopped, his pendulous tongue disappeared in his gaping mouth, which he closed. He approached Francis, who gravely lectured him. “You are very bad. You wound and eat God’s creatures without his permission, and not only animals, but men made in God’s image. That is why you deserve to feel the pitchforks like robber and murderer. Everyone cries out and murmurs against you. But I wish to make peace between you and the people of Gubbio.” The wolf wagged his tail and twitched his ears, then bowed his head to signify his agreement. But that wasn’t enough. He had to promise to renounce evil, which he did by placing his paw in the hand that Francis stretched out to him…
Afterward, it was decided that since Brother Wolf had amended his ways, the inhabitants of Gubbio would furnish him with food every day, a wolf’s hunger being proverbial. By this means he would stay peaceable. Brother Wolf was invited to affirm his good intentions, which he did by moving his tail and ears once more. Did he promise? The wolf lifted his right paw and put it in Francis’ hand.
A new life began for both Gubbio and the wolf who [began]… entering their houses and making himself at home. Alas, he enjoyed this delightful existence for only two years. He was heartily mourned, and buried in a chapel dedicated to Saint Francis. In 1873 workers raising a flagstone uncovered his skull, which testified in its own way to the prodigy and glorified his first human friend.
From God’s Fool: The Life and Times of Francis of Assisi by Julien Green